Transcendence
by Tsunderellah
Summary: Elrios is on the edge of a civil war. Led by a tyrannous queen, the land suffered much, as the continent began to dry and the disparity between the rich and the poor became ever stronger. A forbidden love blooms against all odds, but finds itself in the midst of a war where nothing is defined but the indefinite.


"_**Hell is empty, for all the devils are on Earth." – W.S.**_

.

**Prologue**

_Transcendence: __Preludio__ di una Tragedia_

_**-[Two Households, Alike only in Difference]-**_

.

* * *

The scent of smoke was the cause of the king's midnight awakening, its heavy, oppressive perfume obstructing and denying oxygen entry into his lungs. Everything was quiet, save for the humming of the autumnal crickets, giving the paranoiac impression of calmness, but as smoke curled in from the gap under the door, filling the room with its unpleasant and toxic smell; and the heat unnaturally occurring behind the wall against his headboard, it was inevitable that his thoughts turned to fire. The man turned right to his wife, on her stomach, still sleeping beside him, unaware of the sparkling chaos that could engulf them any minute. He shook his wife, panic rising when she did not respond. She had always been a light-sleeper, even so many years after giving birth to their only son; her maternal instincts overrode her need to sleep. Shaking her harder, he then noticed a small sliver of crimson crawling out from underneath her left breast. Terror made him stagger and fall out of bed. Gathering what little strength he had, he composed himself, unwilling to believe her dead, but as he turned her over, he saw a large gash on her chest, leaking profuse amounts of blood.

"Emalia, please! You'll be alright…! Just, hold on for me." He stuttered as he cradled her, his heart matching the echoing pauses in his words with quick thuds of its own. The fire had made its way into their room, eating through the expensive carpeting, their wooden furnitures shrieking, begging for relief, the papers and documents on his office table just a few steps away went up in shining swirls and blew away through an opened window.

The queen stirred miraculously, perhaps having heard her king's desperate plea- or perhaps because of a plea of her own. Opening one ruby eye, she whispered; "Helputt…s-save…the baby…" as blood trailed out from her lips.

Helputt stiffened in dread; their child! How could he possibly have abandoned one of the most precious treasures of his being?! He quickly stood with Emalia in his arms, ignoring the sharp stab of pain in his cranial region; ignoring the lamentation of his lungs for the extra burden. He rushed through into the burning room, the embers rushing at him like angered fireflies. He maneuvered around his room with swift ease expected from a trained general, dodging fallen pillars, blazing objects that used to be something recognisable, and other charring remains of their once-majestic room. Quickly scooping up his child from the igniting crib of oak, he ran outside to the room's only foreseeable exit: the balcony. Were it only him, he could probably jump off the second story terrace and be fine- after all he had done more dangerous things during his time in the military- but with an injured wife and a small boy to worry about, he was quickly running out of escape options. He felt himself collapse against the railings, the exhaustion of his earlier exertions having caught up to him, the earlier determination to survive, like the ashes of his home, fluttered away into nothingness.

Then, he heard a glorious sound.

"My king, hurry!" A voice called out to him, the situation dyeing her tone with concern and panic. Helputt turned to the direction of the voice and saw Rena, one of his Falcon Knights- a fleet of aerial soldiers under his command that rode on wyverns and pegasi. He felt an immense amount of relief wash over him at the sight of Gungnir, her pure-white Pegasus and its blonde-haired elven rider with her arms outstretched.

"Rena!" He acknowledged her, the seemingly heavy task of escaping with their lives somewhat lightened from his shoulders.

"I could hear the Earth crying from my home, they told me of the fire, your excellency." She gasped as she took in the sight of the inferno behind her king. "Quickly, your highness, we must act!" She cried as the flames crept closer. The room was drowned in the glow of the element; nothing was distinguishable anymore. Nothing was visible save for the burning pyre.

"Rena, alert Priscilla. I need a healer post-haste!" He bellowed in his most authoritative voice, handing his unconscious wife to the rider. Rena nodded firmly as she secured the queen on the seat before her, encircling her arms around the royal's inanimate body.

"Worry not, my king. I will take care of her. Apologies, but I must depart. Gungnir can only carry two people at a time, but I assure you; I will send someone back for you." She asserted as she turned her Pegasus and flew off into the direction of the Hamel's centre where a fellow Valkyrie healer was awaiting her return.

The king gravelly sighed. Who could have done such a thing? This could not have been a simple accident, could it? All the possible sources of fire were supposed to be doused at this time, and his servants were careful- he knew them. They were programmed to perform perfectly! He was not a perfect king- but he tried his very best to rule with just and reasonable measures. He thought himself a good king, acting upon the desires of his people, and rightfully performing his duties for the good of Elrios- so who could have committed such a horrible crime? He personally had no enemies- in fact, he even considered himself friends with the Duchess of Altera and the Count of Elder, the most difficult people he had ever known in his entire life! So who…

His pained deductions were soon interrupted by the whinnying of a Pegasus. Looking up, he saw white- but they were not the wings of one of his Pegasus knights- in fact, the Pegasus itself was dark grey, the colour of the night sky, with startling honey eyes. Rather, the stark white was actually from impeccable clothing, fit only for a queen of sorts. Helputt allowed his weary eyes to trail up the white-clad figure, to discover that, speak of the devil, it was his dear friend- the Duchess du Altera.

"Good evening, your majesty." She whispered casually, the emotion behind her voice confusing the king; was it spite he heard? Perhaps even hate? Her eyes looked down upon him, like he was utter filth, and those golden eyes of hers that used to hold such beautiful warmth crinkled in disgust.

"The duchess! What are you doing here?" He asked her, unconsciously tightening his hold on his son,

She said nothing- only staring at him in some unknown emotion that induced shivers of fear to languidly crawl up his spine. No matter, the situation was dire. The flames licked at his heels, and scanning the skies, no Pegasi were in sight.

"Quick duchess, please help me!" He begged her, motioning for her to ride her Pegasus closer.

Any expression from earlier washed off of her face, to reveal a malevolent grin etched on her pink lips.

"Why would I, King Helputt, when I took such liberties in creating for you such a magnificent funeral pyre?" She snickered, seemingly delighted with his torn expression.

He felt his heart skip a beat.

* * *

To call it a massacre was an utter understatement of the gravity of the situation. Left and right, pegasi and wyvern warriors alike fell from the skies as arrows from the many archers that awaited the king's fleet pierced through their wyverns, their pegasi, and even the riders' own hearts and sent them spiralling into the ground, with only the hard concrete of the ruins that used to be a town to welcome them to the grave. It was sabotage- a well thought out, and even better executed plan to extinguish any and all of the king's fliers. This was no accident, Fiora angrily thought as she watched another of her subordinates met their doom at the hawk-like precision of the archers below. She drew back her bowstring and let loose an arrow, hoping that somehow that one arrow was able to kill- or severely injure an archer on the ground. It was better that they perished than her beloved troops. After all, what would people think of a fleet leader that got all of her subordinates killed?

This was not going to be a repeat of what happened in Ilia, her homeland- where she lost all of her fleet to a monster they failed to subdue. It was sheer luck that she was able to have met her sisters, who joined her and helped her recover from the traumatic loss. To her right, her sister Farina shot another arrow, and to her right, Florina, the little sister, peered hesitantly down past Huey – her pegasus' neck, hoping to at least be able to anticipate her impending death. The three were stranded in the middle of the air, as was the rest of the pegasus fleet.

A white streak caught Fiora's eye, heading straight for the sisters. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw it was none other than Rena, the greatest sniper in the army, and one of her dearest friends. Then she noticed the bleeding mass riding alongside her. Rena halted her pegasus adjacent to Fiora's.

"Fire! Castle! The king—", Rena spouted words frantically. With a sharp inhale and exhale, she tried again, "The castle's been set ablaze, and the king and his son are still trapped there! Please send assistance for them!" With that, she took off, seemingly faster than she had been going before.

"Florina," Fiora began barking orders without a hint of hesitation, "head to the castle now and assist the king! He may be in danger right now!"

"O-o-kay," Florina stammered back, "I'll try my best."

Fiora watched as her sister flew off the way Rena had come, her mouth moving in silent prayer as she grew further and further away. Those few seconds may well have been hours to her.

A few seconds was all it took for one archer to notice his target. A few more to calculate wind resistance, and a few more after that before his arrow planted itself firmly at the base of the pegasus' wing, causing it to spiral violently to the ground, taking its rider with it. The archer casually strode over to meet his victim at her expected landing spot.

Fiora hit the ground hard. Her pegasus harder still. He had perished the moment he hit the ground, throwing his rider several meters away. As she lay there, her entire body reeling from the impact, Fiora saw no life in her steed's eyes. She had raised the pegasus from a very young age, vowing to be his partner and rider when he grew up. She learned every quirk and disposition the pegasus developed, and embraced them all the same. Truly, she loved the beast; considered him a sibling along with her sisters. To see his life dashed away broke her heart.

Her grieving ended as a foot came to rest on her throat. Pressing harder by the second, constricting her breathing, it clearly intended to see her join her fallen friend. Fiora looked up, wanting to see her killer before she blacked out. She saw a man, with hay hair and coal eyes that spoke of disgust, and whose face was adorned with the most hideously wicked smile. The faller rider wished she hadn't looked.

A rough wind blew through her hair, and she heard the sound of a body landing on the ground, heavy, but graceful. She heard Farina's voice,

"Keep your damn hands off of my sister you creep!" Her voice was strong, but her sister could sense the falter in it. She was terrified, "You're not worthy of having your skull caved in at her heel!"

The taunt proved effective, as Fiora could feel air rushing back into her lungs. Her would-be killer stepped over her body, drawing a sword from its hilt as he approached Farina. Lance in hand, she charged at him in turn. The girl was reckless, still only a child in the eyes of her elder sister. Now that undisciplined child was attempting to save her life. Fiora was about ready to tear up.

Though the length of her lance allowed her distance from her opponent, Farina's fighting style was wild and predictable. The accursed archer was swatting away every swing and stab she threw at him, making few strikes of his own. This wasn't the first time a rowdy little worm had tried to take him out. With every blocked attack, Farina was forced to back away a little more. She had run into this fight blindly. Now she wasn't sure how she would get out of it.

Fiora finally staggered to her feet, the shock of her fall, and her near suffocation now past her. She scanned the horizon for the archer, almost losing her breath again as she saw him bearing down on her sister. Without a moment to lose, she pulled a dagger from its hidden sheath, not the proudest weapon in a flier's arsenal, but there was nothing proud about war. Aiming for the back of his neck, she held the blade high and plunged it down. Without even looking back, the archer pulled a 180 turn, his sword rising up to meet the dagger, and knocking it out of Fiora's grip. Their eyes locked. Fiora felt an unending sense of dread as that same look of pure disgust pierced her. Never before had she seen hate so powerful. While their eyes remained locked, the archer's body continued with his momentum, turning back to meet Farina. His sword cut clean through her throat; a diagonal gash as his sword fell through her. She fell backwards, painting herself and the area around her a gruesome crimson. The archer knelt down to be sure she would not be getting back up.

Fiora wanted to cry. She deserved to cry. She fought back tears as her troop was slain. Fought them back as she laid eyes on the bloody royal Rena was trying to save. Fought them back as her steed fell from the sky. Now as she watched her sister's vitality stain the bricks of the destroyed village, no tears were shed. It was as if the pain, the sadness, the fear and the rage had all left. As if they had reached their threshold within her and had defaulted back to zero. As if on auto-pilot, all of her tactical training kicked in. She took her opportunity to sprint back to her fallen pegasus, where her spear had not left its holder. By the time the archer turned around to meet her again, she was charging him with the speed of a steam engine. A better fighter than her sister, the archer was taken aback at how much more difficult this fight was. Gone were the reckless swings and wide openings. Fiora's spear was an extension of her, a guard and a weapon all at once. No matter where he swung, the thing was there to greet him.

At last, a particularly wide swing left Fiora's left side open. The archer, ever the opportunist, put all the strength he could muster into his strike. Fiora had different things in mind. A low kick to his leg caused the archer's knee to cave, bringing him to the ground. Gripping her spear with both hands, she thrust the pole through his heart, not stopping until she felt it come out his back, and plant itself firmly into the ground behind him.

Shuffling over to the red pool where her sister lay, Fiora fell to her knees beside her. Her tears finally fell. Regret washed over her in pounding waves. Farina's eyes were still half open, as if she was ready to spring back into action at any moment. Gods, she wished her sister would just get up.

A crack to the back of her head had her meet her sister on the ground instead. Her face now covered in her sister's blood, she did not dare turn to see what was coming next. Her warrior's resolve set, she turned anyway.

The spear in one hand, his own sword in the other, the archer stood above her once again. His chest was now a mangled mess of jagged steel alloy and synthetic skin. Wires hung limply from his horrific chest wound, and dark liquid poured out, leaving a trail where he walked. He opened his mouth for the first time.

"Disgusting, miserable thing. I'll see each and every one of you eradicated," his words were bitter, far more so than the chilling glare he gave. It was as if he had hated Fiora for years, let alone known her.

"Pick a god and pray."

Fiora's eyes fluttered momentarily, shutting, giving up. Her mind drifted to Florina. Against the odds, she felt herself smile. She may have failed as a commander, but she was yet to fail as a sister.

* * *

"H-how could you… I thought you were my friend…!" King Helputt quietly muttered, to himself more than to the white-clad duchess. Her reply was a simple chuckle.

"Friend…So that's what I am to you…" The duchess whispered to herself, her face stretched in manic laughter. "Did you really think that I would befriend someone as arrogant, naïve, and idiotic as you?" The Duchess du Altera spat, the hatred undeniable. "Apologies, Helputt; but I pride myself in being able to think clearly in the midst of conflict. It would take someone especially stupid to become friends with you. You, who valued idealism and faith; wishy-washy things that cannot govern the world. It is fear and hatred that make it turn, Helputt. It's too bad that you've learned that too late. Otherwise, you could have ruled Elrios better."

"Arrogant?! If there's anything I'm not, it's arrogant! It's your stupid, meaningless desire for the frivolous that made you unfit to rule!

She did not flinch at the harsh words that the king spoke. Instead, she felt herself chuckle softly, all the while swiping the sleeping child from the King's distracted arms. The King howled in horror.

"What a precious child. I see that he takes after his mother. What silken blond hair- it is almost like gold...!" She crooned, cradling the boy in her arms, "…My, what an adorable child. So cute, I just want to squeeze him to death." She announced, laughing darkly as she savoured the look of horror on the king's face.

"Y-you! What are you…"

"Hush, king… you are going to make this hard on the poor babe. You do want his death to be quick and painless, correct? After all, the only sin that he has committed against me, is being born." She quietly said, as the palm of her hand began to descend upon the child's face, gently caressing the sides of his face. In her mild surprise, the infant opened his eyes. They were a surprising shade of azure, crystal clear and filled with purity. They stared up at her with wonder, silently demanding what she was doing. How lovely his eyes were, like a polished sapphire, or a shaded diamond. They were alarming. She had never seen such innocent, unaccusing eyes. As beautiful as they were, she wanted them to disappear- she wanted the life behind them to be snuffed. She wanted them to stop staring back at her.

Yet the distraction of the child's ocean eyes impaired and blinded the Duchess from an incoming attack. She felt pain bloom on her right shoulder, a rouge stain spreading upon her white dress, a scream emanating from her being. A lance had caused the injury, the tip of its blade digging into her shoulder before it was pulled out. The child then began to cry.

As quickly as she was distracted, the white-clad woman recovered, harnessing her spear from her side, swinging it at Florina, the rider who almost came too late. Florina countered the move with her own lance. The rider quickly overpowered the duchess, figuring that unlike the purple-haired knight, the noble had not had lance training in her life, and thus has no power in her inaccurate thrusts; the injury of her shoulder would weaken her further still. Skillfully, and without harming the other flier, Florina managed to disable the duchess, her weapon disappearing onto the ground below. Shaken by the loss of her weapon, the duchess could only gawk as the Falcon Knight took the child from the lady's weakened hold. Immediately, the baby had stopped sobbing.

The Falcon Knight then maneuvered her Pegasus towards her king.

"My king, please hop on! The castle is crumbling!" Florina beseeched her king. The king reacted quickly, reaching for the Pegasus with outstretched hands. As he was about to mount, however, he saw a sharp stab penetrated his rescuer, making the knight gasp in pain as a spray of blood soaked the dumbfounded king. His child, unaware of the situation, gurgled in reply.

"I WILL NOT BE IGNORED, NOR DEFEATED!" The duchess, momentarily left alone, had retrieved her weapon, and due to both the King's and the Pegasus knight's distraction, she was able to land a blow; but in case the blade of her spear was not in deep enough, she twisted the weapon hard, as if it mash the organs of her victim into one, indiscriminate mess. Florina, with the child in hand, started to wobble in her seat, threatening to fall to the ground below, but the rider held on to her mount, whom, as if sensing his owner's demise, began to move about worriedly, twisting and turning his head, trying to look at his master, panicking even more when he could not see her usual reassuring face.

The king wasted no time in mounting Huey, who whinnied in protest. The King gently held both Florina and his son in place and ordered the Pegasus to fly off, whispering to the intelligent animal that he needed it to fly Florina and everyone to safety. With his son, and a heavily injured soldier in tow, the fighting would need to wait for another day. Mapping out a plan of escape in his tactical mind, he decided that the best route would be through the Northern mountain pass and across the ocean into Velder. Drawing his sword, he pointed it at the blood-splattered duchess.

"You are a disgrace to nobility. I thereby strip you of your family crest and title. You are now no greater than the common folk that you so despise." The king, composing himself and putting his authoritative mask on, thought that this was the end of it; that the loss of her title would shake the proud duchess hard enough that he could escape with his life.

The white-clad lady, whose silken front was now splattered with blood, stared silently for a few minutes, her eyes devoid of emotions. Her lips then stretched into a terrifying smile, her eyes hardening in sick pleasure. She looked to the sky above the king's head, who himself was becoming aware of a shadow cast upon him by a no-doubt hostile figure. Her disturbing smile widened further.

"Why be a duchess…when you can be queen!" She cackled maniacally as a figure with hard, lifeless golden eyes stabbed the king with the duchess's spear from behind. Blood came spurting out of his mouth, like a macabre fountain, drenching Florina and his son who sat in front of him. Huey, startled into panic, quickly took off.

"Mistress, should we pursue?" The figure, with a voice removed of emotion or involvement, asked her master, who smiled contentedly at her servant.

"Ophelia, with a baby to drive that Pegasus, they are as good as finished. However, let us shall pursue at a distance. We, after all, need to make it seem as if it was a bandit attack."

* * *

The world spinning around him, Helputt fought with every ounce of his willpower to keep his eyes focused on the open air ahead of him. He knew his wound was fatal. Every breath conjured blood from his lips, his throat burned with each futile inhale. He scanned the landscape below, painted deep orange by the newly rising sun. Though his life would be over soon, Florina was in need of a healer desperately, and his son was likely still not safe from the Duchess' wrath.

…The Duchess!

With great pain, the king twisted himself to hazard a look behind him. As he feared, they were being pursued. A sleek black jet barely big enough for two sped silently behind them, its occupants waiting to see the inevitable demise of the Pegasus and his passengers. Surely, if the prince survived this flight, the Duchess would ensure he meets his end anyway. The king's mind raced. He needed to hide them. The fliers were nearing a forest. If he could only distract the Duchess for a moment, he would give his child the time to disappear from sight.

Grabbing Huey's reigns, he forced the Pegasus to ascend. He prayed his archery practice would not betray him in this, the last projectile he would fire in this world. Leaning forward, he brushed the hair from his child's cheek, giving him one last kiss. A gruesome lip print stained his son's face. He then moved to whisper to Florina, who was beginning to stir once again.

"Please take care of my son," he pleaded, "Don't let this all be for nothing.";

Turning himself around on his mount, Helputt hesitated for just a moment before leaping off.

"Dive, Huey!" He commanded as he fell. In turn, the Pegasus shot downward. With speed and grace, he carried his remaining passengers to the earth below.

Helputt's flight landed abruptly, as he'd hoped. His landing all but destroyed the hood of the Duchess' jet. His rib cage, he felt, did not fare much better. The metal beast struggled to maintain its altitude thanks to the king's formidable frame. The Duchess, visibly outraged, swung open the hatch of her cockpit. She was unable to contain her laughter, in sheer disbelief of the king's stupidity.

"Fantastic idea, Your Majesty! Save your worst idea for last. That'll leave an impression on your subjects!" Standing in her seat, the Duchess looked down on the king, clinging to the ship for his life. She found the sight awfully fitting, "I don't have words to waste on the dead though. Say hello to your son and your wretched excuse for a wife for me when you see them again." Pulling a knife from her waist, she bent down, ready to work away at his fingers.

"You're as near-sighted as ever, Eve," Helputt spat. The words hurt as they rose from his throat, but his solemn face gave no hint to the pain he was enduring, "You'll never take my son from me, beast. My family and I will always stand above your grasp."

The king released his grip, plummeting to his death. Eve could only stare, awestruck at his boldness.

"Forgive me, Mistress. I have lost track of our target." Opheila's cold voice rang through her ears.

"No matter, my dear. If we can't take care of the child, the elements certainly will," The Duchess' eyes were firmly set on the spot she saw the king fall to, "Organize a search of this area in the morning. We should at least confirm the prince's death. My mourning subjects deserve closure." She smiled serenely as she took higher into the skies, into her floating home, Altera.

* * *

The next morning, the people of Elrios woke up grieving. The news of the Seiker house and its slaughter made the entire continent mourn. Everything was wrapped in confusion as the king who cherished his people and his beloved, kind queen was taken from the townspeople they have served and protected so well. There was no news of the little prince. The people feared the worse and prayed for his safety.

The duchess got up that morning with a mask of sadness upon her visage, but a smirk of delicious anticipation upon her soul. The King's council had informed her that morning of the late king's demise and she had acted appropriately. She wept, as it seemed to the visiting officials, from the bottom of her heart, her cries broken, breathless and inert, sobbing quietly into her handkerchief, shamefully hiding her face overflowing with crocodile tears.

They had asked her to give speech to the people of Elrios, to comfort them at the time of need, and to accept the proposal of her ascension into the throne made by the deceased Helputt's council.

She accepted.

"—it is with great sorrow in my heart that I announce the death of the royal family; Murdered late last night by bandits of the most despicable kind. I weep for the loss of my friend, the leader who shepherded this land of our into the glorious future that we are enjoying now." _A tear. "_I will not let my friend and his family's selfless rule and legacy be forgotten by history. Rest assured that those who caused his untimely death will be put to justice, for they did not only rob Elrios of an equitable ruler, but also robbed its people of a friend. King Helputt was a great king, and as proposed by the King's council, as an act to continue the reign of my fallen friend, I wish to continue his legacy by humbly accept the role as your new queen. I can only hope that my rule is as fair and prosperous and just as that of his, and that you, my beloved citizens, entrust your hearts to me as you did our slaughtered king. In light of current events, as my first decree as queen, I declare a hike in security country-wide. Though this may upset some of you, I do this to ensure that the people of power and you my citizens all remain safe from harm. Additionally, anyone with knowledge of the attack last night is invited to approach me personally—"

Eve's coronation went beautifully. Despite the dark aura that hung about after the good king's death, everything still went off without a hitch. She felt giddy – like a school girl going to her prom. The crown was now hers and hers alone. She was the queen of Elrios, and that placed a grin upon her usual poker face. Now not even the fruitless search for the Seiker heir could dampen her high spirits. She was confident she had tied up all her loose ends.

She would find his body sooner or later after all…

* * *

_There we go! Transcendence: The GP re-write is finally UP! Though, to warn you, Transcendence has evolved out of its GP plotline into something much bigger. GP is one story nestled nicely into the story, like a peach pit. o 3o_

_ It only took so much effort to get this out. So much planning between me and the co-author, Salingo- not to mention the hours of arguing. I'm glad the prologue is FINALLY done. Yes, there are hints of Fire Emblem in it. No, it's not a cross-over. Not really. Yes, Rena is a Falcon Knight. It's only appropriate since she does carry about Gungnir. . w ._

_Please review. It makes my day, but also reassures my co-writer that he's doing fantastic work- cause he doesn't listen to me anyway. QwQ_


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